Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Earth Etude for Elul 16 - The Compost Bin in Our Hearts

by Rabbi Katy Z. Allen

My compost bins are so much more than just a place where
compost happens. The area beside the three wire and wood bins is place where I
often feel my father’s spirit – he was raised on a farm, and though he became a
professional, gardening was in his blood, and he spent much of his spare time
in his garden and his orchard.

Yet, it is not just the reminders of my father or the sense
of his hovering spirit that gives meaning to my compost bins. They are symbolic
of so much – which may be more the truer reason that I think of my father
whenever I take out the compost.

We gardeners deposit plant food wastes, garden trimmings,
and chopped up leaves into our compost bins. We let the rains come to add
water, and from time to time we add a bit of soil. Then we let nature take its
course, and before too long, all of that “waste” has turned into dark, crumbly
humus that will enrich the soil of our garden. The leaves, the banana and
orange peels, the corn husks – all this and so much more has been transformed
from something seemingly useless, a by-product, into something good, useful,
and enriching.

And when my heart is feeling heavy, and I sit quietly beside
my compost bins, I, too, get transformed. The grief and sadness in my heart are
lifted, and I find myself once again able to be useful, to myself and to
others. I am able to forge ahead into new territory. My relationship with the
Holy One of Blessing has deepened.

This, in essence, is what teshuvah is about, turning
the excess materials of our hearts and souls – those feelings of sadness,
anger, jealousy, and more – into a deeper and closer relationship with G!d –
re-turning to G!d – and in the process finding ourselves enriched.

It has been, I believe, through my connection with my
father, who passed away almost 40 years ago, that I have learned to grieve. But
grief is complex, it is not a one-time endeavor, it is a mosaic, and it
returns, often when we least expect it. It shows up in new ways in response to
new losses, so that frequently throughout our lives, something new and
different needs to be transformed.

Thus it is for all of us, and thus it is in life. And so,
our tradition provides the vehicle of the month of Elul leading up to Rosh
HaShanah and all the days of the High Holidays, to give us the opportunity to
let our compost be transformed, let our grief, fear, and despair be released,
and let our hearts open wider, in an ever deepening relationship with the
Mystery That Is.

Compost happens. May our transformation also happen.Rabbi Katy Z. Allen is the founder and leader of Ma'yan Tikvah - A Wellspring of Hope in Wayland, MA, and a staff chaplain at the Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston. She is also the co-convener of the Jewish Climate Action Network and the co-creator of Gathering in Grief: The Israel / Gaza Conflict.

by Rabbi Katy Z. Allen I teach a class called Loss & Transformation: Connecting Sacred Texts to Family Stories to Help Deal with Lo...

Ma'yan Tikvah - A Wellspring of Hope

Ma'yan Tikvah is a congregation without walls in Wayland, MA, that holds services outdoors year round. It is a place of hope and trust for those seeking a meaningful connection to Judaism through study, prayer, experiences of nature, care of the environment, and social justice. Founded and guided by Rabbi Katy Z. Allen, Ma'yan Tikvah provides a place to explore Judaism in an informal and inclusive setting.